


Hi Los Ni Sahlo (You Are Not Weak)

by Prank (NekoPrankster218)



Series: Popular Fanfiction Tropes the Series (based on the ColeyDoesThings videos) [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Astral Projection, Brief Descriptions of Graphic Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Death, Dragon Language, Found Family, Gen, High Hrothgar, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Magic, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, References to Canon, Throat of the World (Elder Scrolls), Trauma, based on a theory, everyone is supportive of each other in this fic, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoPrankster218/pseuds/Prank
Summary: "I had a dream that there was a good dragon. He was old and gray, but he wasn't scary."After a particularly bad night at home, Sissel wakes up to discover a dragon. And >that's< only the beginning of her new path...(Fulfills the "Found Family" trope of the series.)
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Sissel, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Paarthurnax, Paarthurnax (Elder Scrolls) & Sissel (Elder Scrolls)
Series: Popular Fanfiction Tropes the Series (based on the ColeyDoesThings videos) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614532
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19





	1. Good Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be the Hurt/Comfort trope at first, but I ended up writing the first scene of Partysnax and Sissy a lot longer than expected, with a bit more depth as well. I realized this was gonna be two or three parts at least; and that with where things were going, this would fit Found Family better (so I swapped my idea around). Also, I've decided the "Angst" one is gonna be a companion piece. I already decided it was gonna be about Britte, but I struggled in figuring out exactly *what* to write down.
> 
> Anyway, this game has been out for like 8 years now, and I cannot find ONE fanfic with a Paarthurnax and Sissel friendship/bond?! I'm literally gonna be the founder of their relationship tag! This is an outrage! I'm disappointed in you all! (Except for the person who had a brief bit of it in their fic about the Dragonborn taking the orphans + twins up to Paarthurnax, I liked that very much.)
> 
> Also the Dragon Language is gonna be the death of me. Speaking of death, I put that warning up in advance, but that actually won't come into play until the next chapter. So have fun being in the dark over what *that's* supposed to entail.

> **_“I’ve put up with your shit for the last time!”_ **

The words echoed in Sissel’s mind as it tried to pull itself out of the fog. Why did that voice sound familiar? Why was he angry with her? What had she done wrong? For what felt like the longest time, it was her only memory.

Until her head and face became scorched with pain; the stinging sensations shaped vaguely like palms and fists. This clue got the gears turning in her head, and all the pieces clicked back into place. He had beaten her. Her father had beaten her. Her father had beaten her for not completing chores he didn’t remember were assigned to Britte. And her sister lingered in the background, smiling at the fact Sissel took the fall yet again. Smiling that it was Sissel getting beat and not herself.

With the memories flooding back to her, the rest of her aches and pains returned as well. They were all over her body. But nothing burned worse than her face. That was the last strike she remembered, the hardest of them all...it must’ve knocked her out. Who knew what was happening to her now. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was just lying on the floor now, completely abandoned by both father and sister. Her eyes hurt too much for her to check; so, the lids remained closed and Sissel remained in darkness.

Her other senses worked to make up for the loss, though. While her skin stung from everything her father put her through, it also had a distinct...chill to it. Fire and ice seemed to be dueling against her body, and it was something she never felt before. Out of curiosity, Sissel stuck her tongue out. It immediately started to freeze, and she quickly slipped it back in within the warmth of her mouth. 

This had to mean she was outside, right? She was left outside in the freezing night to die. Or maybe they already thought her to be dead and disposed of her; preferring to leave her to the animals than to have a proper burial. Then again, a proper burial would mean admitting she died, and everyone knew of the abuse. They’d know right away how it happened and who did it; and maybe, for once, they’d do something other than talk about it. Jouane certainly would. It would look better for her family if they claimed she ran out and got herself killed by the elements. After all, it seemed like the cold was going to get to her soon. Without the strength to pull herself up to find shelter, Sissel was basically a goner.

She felt the stinging around her eyes increase, and something trail down her face. She was crying, and her salty tears were just going to make everything worse. Her nose involuntarily sniffed, although she couldn’t pick up anything. Either it was broken, or it was beginning to get clogged. Just another sense cut off from her. Now she was down to three.

Speaking of - while her nose had failed her, Sissel’s ears were beginning to take note of something. Something was shuffling close by. It disturbed the ground below it, even sending vibrations that slightly shook Sissel. She heard it step closer; definitely something massive. How lucky for her father - some monster was going to do a thorough disposal of her body, and no one would ever get the chance to see her bruises and make guesses.

Her fears were further realized as an exhale close to her body heated her up. It was like a summer breeze; which actually felt nice right now, despite the circumstances. Whatever it was, it could probably swallow her whole without needing to bother with chewing. And Sissel - despite her age - found herself pondering whether that would be better or worse. What did she prefer: being shredded apart by teeth, or slowly breaking down inside the beast? Suddenly, a father’s beating was beginning to look merciful…

No. She was not going to believe that now. He was further from being a saint than even the Daedra. Jouane taught her better than this. And she was a Nord- a Nord of Skyrim. She would face her fate unshaken and with pride.

It was with this determination that her eyes started to peel themselves open. Her father and sister may never get to witness this - her last defiance against death - and may live their whole lives out believing her to be a coward. But this was no longer about familial approval or absent love. This was for herself. This was her final stand against unfair circumstances. This creature may end up with a full belly, but it would never get the satisfaction of weak prey. Never again.

And as her eyes recovered from blurriness, a looming figure grew closer. It was white and gray, with dull eyes meeting her own. The clearer her vision became, the more detail she could pick out. It was scaled, had wings, and definitely looked ancient. Of all the things that could’ve come across her, it had to be a dragon…

Although, as she squinted upwards, she found that the dragon wasn’t the only thing she could see. Above them both was the night sky - clear and vibrant with streaking colors. And just behind the dragon, Sissel could just vaguely make out rock and stone. She was outside, but nothing was familiar to her. How far did her family - or even this dragon - take her away from Rorikstead?

Her inner questions were interrupted by another puff of warm breath hitting her skin. Then, the maw of the beast opened.

**“Drem Yol Lok.”** The voice reverberated in Sissel’s head louder than the last words her father said to her. **“Greetings, kiir. I am Paarthurnax. You are unlike most wundunik I receive. How did you arrive here, and why?”**

Sissel gaped for a few moments, processing the direction this night had gone. After blinking a few times, she attempted to give the dragon as much of an answer as she could. However, her throat burned as soon as she tried. Her voice was instantly cut off with a wheeze and choking, with not a single word successfully being formed.

Paarthurnax tilted his head. **“Hi ahraan. You are greatly injured. My strunmah is harsh, even towards the healthiest of joor. Kos drem, kiir.”**

He proceeded to furl his wings around the area Sissel laid upon. Much of the chill ceased immediately, and she felt heat surround her in its place. The dragon drew his head closer.

**“That should be a start. Yet there is still more to do. Zu’u aak. I cannot heal you, but there is another way. Dreh hi mindoraan? Do you understand?”**

Mustering up all the strength she could, Sissel winced through a painful nod.

**“Pruzah. You will not need to move or speak for this. Nunon morah - only concentrate. Dreh hi mindoraan?”**

Sissel only tilted her head slightly, which was as close enough to a nod for him.

**“You seem to be picking up on the meanings of dov tinvaak - the language of the Dov. There is one more I shall teach you. Feim - ‘fade’ in your tongue. Mortals have a greater affinity for this word than the Dov. Everything mortal fades away in time, but the spirit remains. This should be easy for you.**

**“Ponder the meaning of spirit. Unslaad zii. Where mortal flesh may wither and die, the spirit endures. That is Feim; let that meaning fill you. Su'um ahrk morah - breathe and focus. You will find that your spirit will give you more strength.”**

Sissel took in all that Paarthurnax said and closed her eyes. She focused on a steady rhythm of breathing. Inhale...hold...exhale...hold. Count to five, hold for five, count to five, hold for five. In the back of her mind, she cycled through various words. Mortal. Spirit. Wither. Strength. Fade. Feim.

There was a point where she wondered if this was what wise meditation was like. Was she doing it right? She didn’t feel any smarter or wiser. How was she going to tell it was working?

Her face wrinkled as she caught her scattered thoughts. Focus - she had to stay focused. Getting distracted wouldn’t help at all. She was already taking so much time. And Paarthurnax said this one was easy…

_“Of course you’d find a way to screw this up.”_ Sissel could already hear Britte saying. “ _You're not special - you’re a failure. I would’ve had this done by now.”_

In Sissel’s defense, she had yet to see Britte cross paths with a dragon and end up meditating with it. And she was the one Jouane approached, claiming she had magical talent. _She_ was the one learning how to breathe underwater.

> _“Now, clear your mind and breathe deeply. Good concentration is very important for spellcasting.”_

That was what Jouane had taught her. That had to be the trick to it, then. The dragon had no healing spell, but he still knew how to teach it. Feim had to be just like every other incantation she’s read about, only ancient and...for dragons. Which she was not. She was a mortal; a Nord; and…

> _“They've grown, all right - lazier and more stupid.”_ It’s what she heard her father say _._
> 
> _“Yes, and just like weeds, they're nothin' but trouble.”_ He would say it every time he spoke to someone.
> 
> _“Do yourself a favor and don't have children; they're good for nothing at all.”_ To their neighbors, to travelers…
> 
> _“Curse my good-for-nothing daughters! My wife is twice the woman they will ever grow up to be. She gave her life birthing them. What a waste.”_ And he…

> _“I have done nothing but slave away in the fields every day since the day you were born! And what have you done since then?! Whine!” Pain-_
> 
> _“Cry!” Pain-_
> 
> _“Sleep!” Please-_
> 
> _“Eat!” No..._
> 
> _“And nothing else!” Stop!_
> 
> _“You have taken my food-” …_
> 
> _“My rooms-” …_
> 
> _“My >wife<!” . . . _
> 
> _“And now...I’ve put up with your shit for the last time!”_

Sissel’s head throbbed again. Her hand went to clutch it, only for the movement to cause the aching to return. She groaned, inflaming her throat as a result. Her eyes stung with new tears, which burned the skin on her face again. Her hair blew back when a gust of hot air hit her again. She disappointed him; she had to have disappointed him. She could never do one simple task; not even to save her life, not even to please a dragon.

**“Hi los folook. You are tormented. Faas, paak. It holds you back.”** Paarthurnax stared down at her, studying her.

Sissel looked up to him with pleading eyes - pleading for forgiveness, for assistance, for mercy.

He only tilted his head. **“There is only so much I can do. Dii suleyk aak hi kos hin saviik. My power guides you to be your own savior; at least for the first step.”** He drew his head closer. **“For no one can help you if they do not know what is wrong. Tinvaak, kiir.”**

It’s not as if she didn’t want to. How she wanted to open her mouth and say every single thing her father and sister had done. How she wanted to spill every last tear she shed because of them, and quote everything they put in her head. How she wanted to curse the townsfolk for standing by, to beg Jouane to make her stronger, to plead her mother to come back to life and take all her father’s rage away.

Her mother...she killed her mother...it was her birth that killed her. Left her with just a corpse and drunkard for parents, and a bully for a sister. How different would it be if Mother had lived? Or even, how different would it be if Sissel never lived? If she was the spirit who faded away…

No...that’s not what fades. It’s everything mortal that fades, and the spirit remains. After only a few minutes, she was starting to forget Paarthurnax’s teachings. Sissel’s spirit would remain, just as...her mother’s probably did, too. Or, well, did she? Why would Mother bother to watch over her?

Well, she would watch over Father, of course. And Britte, perhaps. But Sissel…

She would. It wouldn’t make sense to not watch over Sissel just because of her death. Sissel and Britte were twins. If Mother had a grudge, it’d be on both of them, just like Father’s. And her Mother went through labor just to give birth to them. Of course she would love them and support them and watch over them, no matter what. It was Father who was angry. Was he always that way and Mother loved him anyway, or was he bitter and abusive now just because of their birth?

It was...unfair. She never wanted Mother to die! She was a baby! She had no control over anything; and yet he talked as if it was all her fault and she was useless to him - the both of them. Why bother to keep the twins around, then? And Britte - why would she torment her own sister when they both were his victims? It was all just so unfair!

Her hands gripped the ground with a new determination. She was not going to die today - not here, not now, and _not_ because of them! She was going to live. She was going to heal. And she would take this chance to finally get away and find a better place with better people. She would grow up, perfect her magic, become successful, find a real family to love. 

And one day, she would travel back to Rorikstead just to see the looks on their faces. 

Something followed her new feelings of empowerment not long after. Funnily enough, it felt like… _literal_ empowerment. An energy built up and curled through her veins. As it traveled around her body, something faded - feim. The fire in her throat, and some of the aches on her skin. When she opened her eyes, Sissel still found herself covered in bruises and wounds, yet it was like they were only painted on. She felt barely anything from them, and then...nothing.

She was not the only one to sense what had happened. The dragon pulled back slightly, letting out a pleased hum.

**“There. I knew I sensed hin suleyk - your strength. Hi los ni sahlo. You are not weak. And yet, someone put a spell on you to make you feel otherwise.”**

Sissel furrowed her brow. “There’s only one person I know who can do magic, and he’s my mentor. He’s been helping me with magic; he wouldn’t…”

She trailed off as she saw Paarthurnax’s lips curl. A chuckle erupted from him. 

**“I did not entirely mean that so literally. Nuz...I get ahead of myself. I still have yet to hear your story, hon hin tey.”**

She stared up at him, features falling. “It’s not something anyone is ever interested in hearing…”

Her hair was pulled back by another huff, this time with a hint of a scoff. **“Nonsense. The life of a mortal is short; however, each life is full of its own tey ahrk so - tales and woes. I may find an adventurer's life holds more action, but there is a unique sort of drama among those who stay in the same place.**

**“Besides, if you tell me how you came to be injured, I can better understand what needs to be done.”** He finished with a little grin. There was no arguing with that logic.

Sissel sighed as she realized just that. “Well…”

She bit her lip. She rarely ever spoke about this. Pretty much everyone in Rorikstead knew the story without needing to be told. There was the one point where an adventurer came to town, but she only admitted her story after he once saved her father from Redoran’s Retreat and the bandits that kidnapped him. Nobody had really wanted to see him return - it was a mystery how word had even reached the Companions - and she had to explain why to the adventurer when he noticed. His eyes had grown darker after and he left Rorikstead in silence.

That had been many months ago, and since then, her fear of her family grew. Despite the fact she was far away from them now, and the possibility they thought her dead, she still struggled to collect any words about what they had done. It was irrational, but it was happening nonetheless. She had even been prepared to voice it all a few moments ago; and yet, now that the opportunity was upon her, a pressure seemed to be on her chest.

Paarthurnax noticed her hesitance and spoke up again. **“Start at whatever kiin - beginning - you wish. Perhaps that will help you?”**

This dragon was being very patient. Sissel had never heard of such a thing. Ever since dragons returned, she’d only heard stories of fire raining down, buildings being torn apart, and people being slaughtered. It had happened in Helgen, near Whiterun, at Kynesgrove. One even came back to life near her home, and the same Companion was just in time to kill it. Her father, though, had not even helped her and Britte during the panic. He locked the house before they could come in, and they had to hide within the inn.

Even though Paarthurnax had yet to give her a reason to believe he was a threat like most others of his kind, Sissel still feared irritating him. That day huddled in the inn believing it to be her last was enough to give her that fear, possibly for life. And yet that memory also served another purpose. It reminded her yet again why it was time to put her foot down. Even if nothing would be done - just like it had been for years - it might do her some good to finally come clean to a new face.

She took a deep breath. Yes, it was time.

“When my sister and I were born, my mother died.” Sissel started. “Father was angry ever since. He said it was our fault, and...that we were useless, since we couldn’t help on the farm. He’d go out drinking every night at the inn, and when he came home, he’d beat us based on whatever excuse he could find. My sister, Britte, hits me, too…”

Just like the adventurer, the dragon’s features hardened and his voice streamed out in a hiss. **“Zin. Vobalaan bormah.”**

However, he shook his head when he noticed Sissel’s body tense. **“Krosis. Apologies. That was not directed to you. You may continue.”**

She nodded and relaxed. “We’re twins, but not _that_ identical, although Father still has trouble telling us apart. So, Britte uses that by making me do her chores or go through her punishments. I didn’t do her latest chores because I was too busy practicing magic with a friend, so Father beat me really hard. He was angrier than most times, and I blacked out. I thought I was dead.”

A low growl came from Paarthurnax, and the gentle wise dragon looked just like the dangerous ones. He shifted his head away from Sissel as he snarled at nothing.

**“Tahrodiis vith. My teeth to his neck. Zu’u hind rok wah dir ahst maar.”**

Sissel stepped back in shock. This reaction was more than she expected.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t know it would upset you…”

A small bit of smoke flowed out of his nostrils, and for a second Sissel thought Paarthurnax was doing a similar breathing exercise as she did earlier.

**“Nid, krosis. Hi drey nid folaas. You did no wrong. You** **_never_ ** **did. It is that pathetic excuse of a father, of a man, that has my ire.”**

“Are you gonna hurt him?” Sissel asked with a twinge of fear.

His eyes softened. **“Many fibers of my being compel me to do so; yet wisdom forces me to stay. You are a fron sil - a kind soul - though. No matter what that joor has done to you, you still feel concerned for him.”**

“He’s my father.” Sissel insisted. “He’s cruel, yeah...but family still sticks together.”

**“Hi aal kos fin nunon gein wah zin brod.”** He said sadly. **“You seem to be the only one to honor that.”**

“I…” Sissel looked down. “I know.”

**“I can promise that will not last, mal gein.”** Paarthurnax began to stand upright and stretched himself out. **“One way or another...Daar fen bo wah aan laat.”**

“I think so, too…”

His head tilted downwards so she could have a better look at his face as he spoke the next words. **“When you awaken, distance yourself from that place - as far as you can. Get your friend to help, if you must. Head to Hillgrundhofkah. I have heard that it is called ‘Ivarstead’ by you joor. When you are ready, you must climb The Seven Thousand Steps to reach here again.”**

“Hold on.” Sissel said when he finished. “I don’t understand. I thought I was already awake here?”

Paarthurnax gave a light laugh. **“I nearly fell for that trick myself. However…”**

A claw headed towards Sissel. She yelped and ducked, yet felt nothing. It had gone right through her.

**“It seems that in order to save yourself, you tapped in to higher powers.”** He smiled. **“Mulaag kiir. Your mentor must have sensed this potential as well. Nii fen nunon meyz mul - it will only grow stronger.”**

“So…” Sissel stood up again. “I’m not here, am I? Is this a dream, then? Or something else entirely?”

**“I know** **_I_ ** **am not in a hahnu - a dream. It must be Feim - or at least, a weaker variant of Feim.”**

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you just taught me Feim?”

He shook his head. **“I helped you strengthen it. Feim is the first word of Feim Zii Gron - Become Ethereal. Yet...it does not explain why you are** **_here_ ** **, unless it is because you used it without mastery. I can tell you are no Dovahkiin.”**

“Dragonborn? No…” She concentrated on some of her previously resurfaced memories. “But I think I’ve seen him before.”

Yes, the Companion that saved her father and killed the newly born dragon - he had to be the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn was the best dragon slayer in all of Skyrim, and people said he had made his return. The Greybeards’ call was heard all around almost a year ago. And that man; he absorbed the soul of the Rorikstead dragon, just as the legends described.

**“Perhaps…”** Paarthurnax spoke again. **“That might be where you heard it. Laan fah rok ahst bok - questions for another time.”**

Sissel tried to think back to each time she had seen the Dragonborn. It hadn’t been very many times, and they were all so long ago; it was hard to determine if she’d ever heard one of his legendary Shouts clearly enough to remember the words. And that wasn’t the only thing on her mind at the moment.

“So when am I supposed to-”

When Sissel went to look back at Paarthurnax, she found that something was wrong. He was gone. The snowy area was gone. The night sky was gone. _Everything_ was gone. She was surrounded by a void, with her head throbbing as soon as she noticed this, to the point she clamped her eyes close. She felt as if she were spinning. Until she fell over, and felt her back connect to hard wood. And Sissel just decided to rest there for a little while, feeling so very tired...


	2. Good People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sissel awakens to a changed world, and finds her life will never be the same again. And maybe, that's for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1,000 more words than the last chapter, wow! I was not expecting this to take so long. Although I *did* expect to have to add another chapter. I can say, though, that this will definitely end at three parts. My last ideas for this little ride should be enough to be contained in the last part. 
> 
> I also left in several references to other quests of Skyrim, big and small. This definitely takes place after a lot has happened for the Dragonborn.

The sensation of being jostled around was what finally woke Sissel up from a dreamless sleep. Well, the dreamless sleep following whatever experience she had before; speaking with a dragon atop of a mountain and possibly away from her own body. As that memory returned to her, she at first assumed that was the dream she had almost forgotten, only to realize she technically fell asleep twice. So either that was a completely separate dream, or...it had been real.

She’d get to unpacking all of  _ that _ in a minute, though. First things first, she had to piece together whatever was going on  _ now _ . Because, after reconsolidating all her memories, she realized something was wrong. She had first blacked out on her house’s floor, and yet she obviously hadn't woken back up there. The very fact she was in motion proved that. And the movement itself lined up perfectly with a carriage.

This already put several concerning theories into Sissel’s mind. Perhaps they thought her dead and were carting her body for burial. Perhaps her father finally snapped and had her sent away. Perhaps, even, she was being kidnapped and her father would flip a Septim to determine if he wanted to bother having her saved.

There was also the possibility she was simply being taken somewhere to be healed, given she just had the most brutal beating of her life. Maybe she was even being saved from her family. After all, Paarthurnax  _ did _ advise her to run away to Ivarstead. If that was true, was it possible he had somehow gotten someone to take her there?

No, that was...crazy to consider; even  _ if _ that experience was true and not just a dream, it was unlikely a dragon could even hire a carriage driver. Besides, that would be pointless, anyway. Dragons don’t hire carriage drivers because dragons  _ can fly _ .

The only way Sissel would be getting any answers would be to just open her eyes and look around. And while she was worried what might happen if it was discovered that she was awake now, at least her face and body didn’t ache like the last time she woke up. It was quite easy to crack open an eyelid halfway to take a little peek.

Directly across from her seat, she found a familiar armored figure. The Dragonborn was sitting back and watching the landscape go by, not facing her at the moment. Sissel decided against turning her head to see who was driving at the moment, for fear that the Nord man would pick up on the movement in the corner of his eye. For now, she stared out behind him to get an idea of the area. It was nothing like the plains of Whiterun Hold. There were dozens of trees surrounding the road, and rocky paths on the side of a looming mountain.

“Hey, you’re finally up.” A voice interrupted, and Sissel realized she had stopped paying attention to the Dragonborn. She opened both eyes and stared up at the blond warrior. “You’ve been in and out of sleep so long, I was worried Vaermina’s cult was up to something, again.”

She decided to ignore the implications of “again” and just ask the question she had since waking up.

“What’s going on?”

“Before I explain,” the Dragonborn started, shifting so that his arms were resting on his legs and the rest of his body was slanted forwards. “Tell me what you remember before going unconscious.”

Sissel sat up and rubbed her head, only to realize the bruises were no longer there. She was completely healed, as if the incident had never happened.

“My father, he…” she struggled to say. The memories were still so clear, down to the emotions she felt in the moment. “He got  _ really _ angry at me. Britte’s chores weren’t done and she blamed it on me. So he beat me. Worse than usual. I blacked out, and…”

She trailed off, wondering how she was supposed to explain what happened next. She herself was confused on whether it had all been a dream or not. It definitely wasn’t the work of a nightmarish Daedric Prince - it was too kind and helpful to be.

Sissel decided to talk in half-truths for now. “And then I woke up. I thought I’d be broken on the house floor, or even left outside to die. So, what’s going on?”

The Dragonborn studied her for an extra moment before nodding. “Right, I suppose there’s no use in stalling. We’re on the road to Ivarstead. Your family is gone.”

Out of everything that he could’ve thrown at her,  _ this _ she was the least prepared for. It hit her harder than anything Britte and her father had done before. Maybe because the blow landed somewhere deep within.

“What…?” she choked out.

He sighed, figuring this was going to happen. “Your sister is dead, and your father is most likely going to get executed. Because of this, I’m taking you to Ivarstead. There’s a better place for you than Honorhall Orphanage - even if that wretched windbag that used to run it has been... _ replaced _ .”

She was a little suspicious with his hesitation and tone of voice regarding Honorhall. However, given that she wasn’t going there after all, she decided it wasn’t her problem. She already had a few to address right now.

“How? How did it all happen?” she asked. “How long have I been out?”

“Only a few days now - not counting the recent times you were half-awake.” he explained. “Although I’m guessing you really don’t remember any of that, which is fine. It’s not important now.”

His gaze hardened as he continued on. “I was on the road near Whiterun when I passed by some guards escorting your father. They said he was being taken in for the murder of his daughter, among a few other charges. I immediately rushed over to Rorikstead after that. You were being tended to by Jouane Manette inside the manor, your sister’s body being preserved for burial.

“He explained that your father went to the inn per usual to get drunk. In the morning, he and a few others checked on your house while he was still out when some dots were being connected between them. They found you on the floor - already healed - and your sister’s corpse right next to you. The only reason they learned about your beating was because he admitted to just leaving you, believing you dead as well.”

“Why was she dead?” Her voice was trembling. “I don’t understand…”

The Dragonborn shook his head. “I’m not sure. As far as I know, his only answers to those questions were the same ‘my daughters are useless’ jargon he always says.”

However, he had essentially lost her as she now stared down at the carriage floor. Her mind was caught in a storm of confusion. She felt no remorse regarding her father’s arrest - it was a long time coming, and really something that should’ve happened long before any deaths. Which was mainly the source of her confliction. On one hand, she wondered if she should also feel like justice was served to Britte. Her own sister bullied and beat her, and rarely did anything to help her. It was only fair, if confusing, that she got caught in the crossfires that night.

Except that wasn’t how Sissel felt. Because she knew deep down that they both suffered the same issues. The only difference was how they coped with it - and unfortunately, Britte chose to take it all out on her. It was unfair to Sissel, and yet she felt Britte dying in the end was also unfair. Given the opportunity, was it possible that Britte could change? If they had never had the home life they did, would she even be a bully in the first place?

In the end, Sissel was solely receiving the salvation they  _ both _ had desperately needed. It wasn’t like Sissel could have done anything to fix that. She was unconscious -  _ no one _ except her father and Britte knew what had happened next, what had happened to make it all end like this. And it seemed like neither of them would be talking.

“I’m sorry.” The Dragonborn finally said after a few minutes of silence between them.

Sissel only closed her watery eyes and gave a small nod. She heard an awkward cough and looked to the front of the carriage. A balding man in green clothes was the driver, who was also in the position to overhear conversations. Up ahead, there was a couple dressed in ragged clothes that the carriage was about to pass by. They muttered about failed weddings and thieving bandits.

“Just ignore them.” The Dragonborn said in a low voice to both Sissel and the carriage driver. He also made it a point to hide his face from the view of the couple, for whatever reason.

The carriage driver nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Sissel looked back to the Dragonborn with a questioning look. “He’s taking us to Ivarstead?”

“Yes. His name is Gunjar - one of my personal drivers. He goes to other places beyond Hold capitals, which is useful.”

“But why Ivarstead?”

It was convenient for Sissel, given that it was part of Paarthurnax’s instructions. Only, the Dragonborn would have no idea about those instructions. And as far as she knew, there wasn’t any property in Ivarstead that he could potentially own.

He finally sat back with another sigh. “That...I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that I got a summons from the innkeeper there, telling me to ‘bring this little girl’ with your description listed perfectly. Although, from his wording, it sounded like he didn’t know I already had you…

“Do you have any idea why you’ve been summoned there?”

Oh, he had  _ no idea _ . Sissel bit her lip as she debated what her answer should be. The whole situation was insane, but if anything, that summons had to prove her meeting with Paarthurnax  _ was _ real. It was too specific to be a coincidence now. The weird thing was, that wasn’t the worrisome part to her. She liked Paarthurnax - in just one night, he had shown more care for her than anyone else; second to Jouane, of course. He had done so much after only knowing her for less than an hour.

But Paarthurnax was a dragon, and the one unknowingly taking her to him was the Dragonborn - the greatest of all dragon slayers. She had already seen him in action against one before, and heard tales of many other encounters. He had even emerged victorious against the World Eater, Alduin. If he wanted to, he surely could kill Paarthurnax, and probably would do so without a second thought. And there was no way she could put her new friend in so much danger; not after all he’s done so far!

Sissel  _ could _ feign ignorance. After all, it was the  _ innkeeper _ who summoned them both, not some mysterious figure. She could just tell him she wanted to move to Ivarstead permanently. Even though she already had a great friend in Jouane...no, it’d be too hard to convince him she wanted to stay there without any special reason to. And even if she  _ did _ , Jouane himself might need persuading as well. Jouane would  _ definitely _ catch any lies, half-truths, etc. He knew her too well.

Yet, the full truth was out of the question as well. She’d have to dance the fine line of vagueness, then…

“Maybe.” Sissel finally said, after being quiet for longer than she would’ve liked. Already she must’ve seemed suspicious now. “It’s kinda weird, though. It might not actually be connected.”

“Go ahead.” The Dragonborn gestured his hand. “Any leads are welcome.”

She took a deep breath. “I had a dream that there was a good dragon. He was old and gray, but he wasn’t scary.”

The Dragonborn’s eyebrow arched with intrigue. It almost seemed...like amusement?

“Wasn’t scary, eh? So he didn’t try to eat or maim you?” Sissel shook her head in response. “So what did he do?”

“He...just talked.” Sissel admitted. Something was off. He wasn’t being as serious or dragon-soul-thirsty as she expected.

“Lots of dragons talk. Although...if he wasn’t scary, that means he didn’t do the typical talking down to ‘joorre’ and threatening to kill or enslave you?”

Sissel shook her head again. “He was...actually very nice.”

“And he said his name was Paarthurnax?”

By the time Sissel even registered the question, she had already nodded in automatic response. Her mouth gaped as she watched the Dragonborn smirk.

“Figured as much.” The man shrugged. “Well, that explains a bit, although it also raises more questions…”

“You  _ know _ him?!” she exclaimed. “How?! He was-”

“At the top of a giant, snowy mountain? The Throat of the World? Yeah, I know.” For once, his face fell into annoyance. “It was a bitch to climb, if you’d excuse my language.”

“Uh, of course, I’m used to that…” Sissel blinked. “But I thought you would’ve just killed him. So he definitely is real? And he really is expecting me?”

“I know he’s real,” the Dragonborn grinned. “A real  _ softie _ . He’s taught me a lot - both about Shouts, and life in general. Of course I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. I’d choose Paarthurnax over Delphine any day.”

Sissel tilted her head in confusion.

“Ah, that’s a bit of a story. Point is - whatever you know about Paarthurnax and his interest in you, you can trust with me. In fact, I may be able to help you; if your goal is getting up that mountain.”

With the new direction in conversation now dawning on her, Sissel broke out into a smile. “Actually, I think it is. And maybe you could help figure out some things about that night…”

* * *

Nearly two full days of travel later, and Gunjar’s carriage finally pulled into the settlement of Ivarstead. The days would have been boring, if not for the random encounters and conversations about Paarthurnax that passed the time. While Sissel retold all of the strange meeting she had while unconscious, the Dragonborn recalled all the different times he had met Paarthurnax and plenty more about the history he knew.

She didn’t believe at first that Paarthurnax had once been a darker being. It was even harder to believe the translation of his name: “Ambition-Overlord-Cruelty”. He had spoken so gently to her, had looked so innocent...and yet she also couldn’t deny the sheer power of his build, and how threatening he sounded when he grew angry at her father. Out of everything, she certainly  _ could  _ believe that he was a changed person. Oddly, it was something that made her respect and admire him even more.

And after one more little fact the Dragonborn shared, there was now an entirely new conversation she wanted to have with him.

Although, that would have to wait until she could actually reach him. During their conversations, the Dragonborn explained how he had to travel to the very peak of the Throat of the World. To do so, he needed to use a Shout called “Clear Skies” and battle Ice Wraiths on the way. This journey was already dangerous for grown warriors and adventurers; and indeed, the Greybeards themselves seem to rarely take it. It was very likely that it would be years until she was deemed ready to go up, even if she had the Dragonborn accompany her.

She’d be lucky if she even got to climb the Seven Thousand Steps right away, actually. Pilgrims flocked to journey the steps, yet not everyone was capable of enduring it. Barring the harsh weather, there were plenty of wolves, sabre cats, and trolls that made even clear days dangerous for travelers. The Dragonborn had said that she’d be fine if she accompanied him, except he seemed to avoid the question of the earliest he would take her.

Then again, the entire reason he was taking her to Ivarstead before even knowing about her meeting with Paarthurnax  _ was _ because of that message from the innkeeper. Someone wanted her here; and given the timing, they might also want her to reach her ultimate destination at the peak of the mountain. The only way to know for sure was to go inside and ask.

Leaving Gunjar and his carriage behind, the Dragonborn led Sissel into the Vilemyr Inn. It was close to the evening; therefore, they decided to rent a room for the night while they were there. Both were in need of some proper rest in an actual bed. Sissel especially needed it, given that this was the first time she ever left Rorikstead and explored Skyrim.

So, they both approached the bar the innkeeper stood behind. On the way there, the Dragonborn had told her that the Nord man’s name was Wilhelm. He was a good man that the Dragonborn had done a few favors for already. Upon seeing them both enter and approach, he stopped wiping off the wooden surface and leaned against it.

“I was expecting to have to wait a few more days.” Wilhelm noted.

The Dragonborn shrugged. “I had already found her by the time your note reached me. Just needed to convince the folks watching over her that Ivarstead was safe.”

The Dragonborn leaned against the bar himself. “So, who’s wanting to see her? And how do they know about her in the first place?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that Klimmeck came back from his latest trip to High Hrothgar with the message. Straight from one of the Greybeards, he said. All I did was pass it on to you, since you’ve done so many tasks for us already.”

“The Greybeards, huh?” He switched his gaze back to Sissel, who was just quietly letting the men speak. “Looks like our little theory is right.”

“Does that mean we’ll be climbing the steps tomorrow?” she asked.

“If the Greybeards command it.” He paused while he thought of something. “Typically they’d just call with the Voice. But maybe they went through all this extra trouble because no one knew what to call you.”

Then, he returned his attention to Wilhelm. “However, we’re already tired out from getting here, and the Steps are better traveled during the day. I’d like a room for the night, please.”

“Already covered.” Wilhelm said. “Along with the message, the Greybeards said they’d cover any inn costs should the girl need it.”

“Really? No, I insist.  _ I’m _ the one who goes into caves and finds treasures. I’ve got plenty to spend.”

“You’ll have to take it up with them, then.”

He placed some Septims onto the table. “Oh, I will.”

Wilhelm pocketed the payment, then led them to the available room. The Dragonborn also paid for Sissel to get a decent dinner before bed. She enjoyed eating while listening to Lynly Star-Sung’s performance. The sisters rarely ever spent time in Frostfruit Inn back at Rorikstead, as their family owned their own home to sleep and eat in. The only times she ever went inside the inn was to locate someone, usually her drunken father.

And now she’d never have to worry about that again. Never have to worry about being woken up in the night, nor being harassed immediately in the morning. It didn’t dawn on her during the nights on the road. Probably because this was going to be the first time she’d sleep in a bed since before the incident. Now, truly, everything was going to be different - and it’d never be the same again.

It was...a nice change.

* * *

The next few days were harsher than the trip to Ivarstead. They were now without a carriage, and had to climb the tallest mountain in Skyrim; in all of Tamriel. Well, they at least had to climb the first seven thousand steps of it. It had taken a while for the Dragonborn to climb it the first time. However, he was not a little girl that had never been out of Whiterun Hold.

In fact, he was beginning to believe it was a mistake to take her up so early. He had been confident in his ability to protect her from all of the threats of the mountain. Clear Skies could hold off the weather, Unrelenting Force could knock back attackers; but he had no shout that could instantly train her for a whole day’s worth of walking.

And yet, Sissel proved tenacious. She required more breaks than the average pilgrim, sure. He didn’t hold that against her - he had expected that much. Her fledgling knowledge of magic was also helpful, especially with fire magic. Given he had spent some time in the esteemed College of Winterhold, the Dragonborn decided to use some of their time together to pass down what he had learned.

When they finally reached the end of the steps and could see High Hrothgar standing before them, it had been almost a week. Both were extremely tired and ready to just collapse. The Dragonborn hoped the Greybeards might spare an extra bed or two, given that they  _ were _ the ones who wanted Sissel up here so quickly in the first place. Damn, now that he thought about it, Paarthurnax really should’ve just flown down himself! Why in Oblivion did he end up becoming everyone’s errand boy?!

Those were complaints for later, though. Sissel seemed ecstatic to finally be here, despite her exhaustion. For the last hour or two, the Dragonborn had to carry her on his back. Although it was his choice to do so, given how close they were to their destination by then.

He passed the trunk and sacks of offerings, as well as the final etched tablet, in favor of the sanctuary door. The Dragonborn had been up here plenty of times that if Sissel wanted to know what it said, he’d tell her later. Plus, he had a feeling she was too eager to get to see Paarthurnax again.

Divines, he just realized. He might just be the one forced to escort her up there. Dammit…

Well, it was all worth it in the end. Sissel deserved all the supportive figures she was meeting, after everything she’d been through. And the Dragonborn couldn’t think of anyone better than Paarthurnax. The old dragon wasn’t just a mentor to  _ him _ anymore, really. He probably wouldn’t ever admit that out loud, though.

When the two entered High Hrothgar, they found a circle of four robed figures already waiting for them. The Greybeards. Approaching them directly was the speaker for the group - an old Nord the Dragonborn knew as Arngeir. He’d already briefed Sissel about him, as well as the silent trio that made up the rest of the Greybeards.

“Dragonborn, you have finally made it.” Arngeir began. He examined the girl on his back. “And I take it that this is the girl that matches our description?”

He nodded. “Yes. Her name is Sissel, and she was of Rorikstead.”

“Was?”

“Well, I’m assuming Paarthurnax wouldn’t want her going back to where she was tormented.”

Arngeir raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so you already know what has occurred.”

“Yes, but I do still bring some news.” The Dragonborn let Sissel down from his back as he continued to speak. “I’m happy to report that the bastard has been arrested. By now I doubt his head is still even attached to his shoulders.”

The Greybeard gave an acknowledging nod, needing no further explanation. “It is good to hear that justice still exists in the world below. When our master recalled all that he had heard, our hearts were instantly filled with grief. If there is anything that the young lady should desire, we shall see to it.”

Sissel took this as her cue to finally speak up. “So, you got to talk to him? Does that mean I’ll get to see him again soon?”

“Ah, patience, little one.” Arngeir chuckled. “We all were very eager to meet him for the first time. However, the path up to Paarthurnax is more treacherous than the path you’ve taken so far. What’s important is that you’re here now, and away from those who have tormented you.”

“Then I’m guessing my little theory is correct?” the Dragonborn cut in. “Did she somehow use Become Ethereal? Does Sissel have a talent with the Thu’um?”

The Greybeard crossed his arms. “That is what she is here to find out.”

Sissel tilted her head. “The Thu’um? As in what a Dragonborn can do?”

He turned to the girl. “While it is true that Dragonborns have a natural gift with the Voice, it is not impossible for an ordinary person to master it as well. For us, however, it takes years of dedicated study and practice in order to even complete one Shout.

“But if you have picked up Feim so quickly and early in life, we’d be fools to ignore it.”

“You may not have  _ the  _ gift,” the Dragonborn added. “But you have  _ a _ gift. Jouane certainly recognized it.”

“I thought I’d just go on to be a mage, though.” Sissel said. “But to be able to Shout…”

“The Greybeards have trained a variety of students since our inception.” Arngeir continued. “While not all go on to join us in our sanctuary as one of our own, they all have impacted the course of history.”

He paused to ponder a recent example, who preceded the Dragonborn. “Perhaps not always for the best. Still, it is rare we find such unique cases. Even if you did not wish to take our training, we would still be honored to house you. I feel it may be Paarthurnax’s will that we do, even though he has yet to say it.”

Sissel tilted her head for a moment. “I’m really thankful for the offer. I  _ really _ appreciate it. But I think I’ll need some time to think about it. Everything happening lately has just been so sudden.”

“Plus, the poor girl’s just had to climb the Seven Thousand Steps for a week.” the Dragonborn cut in. “Let her sleep on it, old friend.”

Arngeir nodded. “You’re right, and it was never my intention to overwhelm or pressure her. Young Sissel, you’ll be given all the time you need to decide about both our offers. Master Borri will show you to the room you may rest in for now.”

One of the silent Greybeards - Master Borri - approached the trio as soon as his name was spoken. He nodded to Sissel, who bowed back. Then, the young girl followed him to another part of the sanctuary. The other two Greybeards - Einearth and Wulfgar - took this as their cue to disperse as well. The only ones left in the front room were Arngeir and the Dragonborn.

Arngeir smiled at his fellow Nord. “I took notice of something, Dragonborn.”

Said Dragonborn tilted his head while raising an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“‘Old friend’. Is that what you called me?”

He grinned back. “Well, of course. Even though it’s been only around a year since I first reached High Hrothgar to answer your call, it feels as though we’ve been through a lifetime together.”

“Indeed, it has.” Arngeir agreed, relaxing his stance.

“Which is why you have no need to pay for  _ anything _ . Not on my watch.”

“Now Dragonborn, there’s no need to do that for us.” Arngeir straightened out again. “While we may not go out much to earn wages like most, we still have a nice income in the form of donations.”

“That may be, but that requires the good will of the people, as well as their heavy pockets. It’s better for you to save up for a rainy day.” The Dragonborn looked on sternly. “For as long as I still breathe, you can count on me to cover expenses. I’ve earned more than I alone will need. I’ll happily spend it on those who made me the Dragonborn I am today. It’s the least I can do.”

Arngeir held up his hands. “Now, now. We trained you with no payment in mind. All we wished for was the honor of being your mentors, which you’ve already given us.”

“At least forget about paying off Wilhelm at the inn. I’ve already done so, and will not be accepting any compensation.” He paused. “And if you really  _ insist _ , then you can do so by raising and teaching Sissel well.”

“ _ That _ was our intention from the beginning, I assure you.”

“Good.” The Dragonborn nodded. “Then we’re even now.”

Yet, in the back of his mind, the Nordic warrior did not mean it. By his honor, the Greybeards  _ would _ be getting a continuous supply of generous donations. If it was anonymous, they’d have no reason to suspect it was him and try to return it. Yes, that was the plan he’d go with.

And so, as the two ended the conversation to move on with the day, the Dragonborn’s face broke out into a smile. He thought back to the first day he met the old monks, and all the subsequent teaching sessions. He thought back to every visit, business and casual. He thought back to the talk they just had.  And he thought back to the one who led them all: the dragon Paarthurnax.

Yes, this was a good place, with good people. There was no better place for Sissel to grow up in - that he was sure of. This was the start of a new and great beginning for her.


	3. Good Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The College of Winterhold awaits. But first, there is one last face Sissel must seek out, at the place where it all began...

Typically it would be late in the life of a Greybeard until their first meeting with Paarthurnax. Emphasis on “a Greybeard” - the old monks were fiercely protective of their Grandmaster. The very truth of his identity being released to the masses would be disastrous. A dragon - one who used to to tyrannically rule over mortal-kind at the right hand of Alduin? Pilgrims already flocked to High Hrothgar for spiritual purposes; but after a revelation like that, so too would warriors show up seeking glory. Armies may arrive as well.

The Dragonborn had been the first non-Greybeard to be allowed to see Paarthurnax in _centuries_. Ironically, the greatest dragon hunter in all of Tamriel needed the guidance of a dragon in order to learn the secrets of a man-made Shout. The Greybeards had been hesitant, yet it all worked out in the end. Alduin was slain, Paarthurnax was spared, and the Dragonborn gained yet another treasured, lifelong friend.

Although, the Dragonborn had been a reasonable exception. Today, another student would be making the trek up to the top of the world in order to meet him. Were it not for the circumstances that brought her to High Hrothgar in the first, she probably would have never been granted this privilege. Indeed, she would have gone her whole life back in Rorikstead, never knowing.

But Sissel of High Hrothgar, formerly of Rorikstead, was special. At a young age, she had demonstrated an understanding of “Feim” - the first word of the Become Ethereal shout. She had sent her spirit straight to Paarthurnax by accident. After climbing the Seven Thousand Steps alongside the Dragonborn, she was adopted by the Greybeards and spent years under their watchful eyes. She was tutored by both Jouane Manette and the Dragonborn in magic, while simultaneously studying the Way of the Voice. Pretty soon, thanks to the Dragonborn’s influence, she would be one of the youngest students of the College of Winterhold.

Over the course of the past several years, Sissel’s life had seriously improved compared to the days of her father’s beatings and sister’s bullying. She was well cared for and well educated, not to mention extremely loved by everyone now in her life. No longer did she want for anything, save for just one request she was finally getting today. After years of building up resistance to the mountain, practicing the Voice, and mastering the Clear Skies shout, she was finally getting it.

Sissel would finally see Paarthurnax again.

Now just a few years off from being a grown woman, the teen followed her four main caregivers out of the sanctuary. As they led her to the courtyard, Arngeir cited all the lines Sissel predicted she would be hearing today.

“Clear Skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time. The path to Paarthurnax is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay focused on your goal, and you will reach the summit."

She nodded as the cold air of Skyrim hit her face upon exiting High Hrothgar. The old monks had been fussing over her for days now. This would be the first time Sissel had left High Hrothgar since the day she first arrived - save for the few practice trips up and down the mountain to prepare herself for what was about to come. And unlike what they had previously anticipated, the Dragonborn would not be there to guide her. She was going to do the trek to Paarthurnax alone.

To say the old farts were struggling to come to terms with that would be an understatement. She couldn’t wait to tell Paarthurnax about it and see if he had experienced the same level of protectiveness from them.

“I’ll be fine, Master Arngeir.” Sissel insisted. “I won’t just have Clear Skies on my side.”

Still, his face was stern. “Your magic will only help you if you watch your magicka levels closely.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’ve also got a bit of dagger training.”

“ _But still_ , the dagger is a small weapon compared to most. Should you find yourself in trouble, you should only rely on it when fleeing is not an option.”

Despite being annoyed about still being treated like a defenseless child, Sissel couldn’t help but smile over his worrying. “ _I_ won’t be the one fleeing.”

Arngeir groaned. “Of all the things he could have taught you, why couldn’t he hold back on hubris?”

He was, of course, referring to the Dragonborn. While the Greybeards taught Sissel how to treasure herself, the younger Nord helped her to see how to take pride in all she had done and could further do. It was an attitude Arngeir didn’t fully understand when she first started displaying it; although, it wasn’t something he actively tried to smother either. Perhaps it was because he saw how happy it made her - to feel like that instead of self-loathing, as she was before.

Either way, there was no way _anyone_ was going to talk her out of doing this. She had waited _too long_ for this day. And so help her, she was going to see Paarthurnax before she went off to study in Winterhold.

In the early morning at the gate leading to the rest of the Throat of the World, Sissel of High Hrothgar hugged each of the four Greybeards. Master Borri. Master Einarth. Master Wulfgar. Master Arngeir. 

And she’d vowed to save the fifth and final embrace for their Grandmaster.

* * *

The journey to Paarthurnax was indeed perilous, just as everyone had warned her beforehand. The main annoyance had been Ice Wraiths; although Sissel had to deal with an Ice Troll as well. However, even with all the obstacles, Sissel managed to reach the peak just as the sun was beginning to set. While she had been prepared to make a temporary camp on the way there, it was fortunate for her that she made good time.

Before her now was a ruined Word Wall - a structure she had only ever seen in books, yet heard a lot about. From the stories the Dragonborn told her, this was often used as a perch by Paarthurnax. This was also the wall where the Dragonborn learned “Yol” - the first Word of the Fire Breath Shout - from the dragon himself. Hearing of that story was partially why she held back from learning the shout over the years. It felt special to learn a Word of Power straight from Paarthurnax - and Sissel would know.

Speaking of the dragon, he was not yet present on the mountain. Most likely he was out on a hunt or simply stretching his wings. While he had to hide himself - especially from the recovering Blades faction - there was only so much a mountain peak could offer _anyone_ , much less a dragon. High Hrothgar at least had plenty of things to study up on, despite the isolation. Up here, Paarthurnax had nothing but the Word Wall. Other than the days he’d been teaching willing dov about the Way of the Voice, he also had no one but himself. No wonder the Dragonborn would make the trek up for no real reason.

Even though Sissel would be going off to study in Winterhold, she hoped she’d still find time to also regularly keep Paarthurnax company.

Before she could get lost in contemplating the scheduling of such visits, the sound of sudden wing beats growing closer reached her ears. Sissel turned her eyes to the skies to watch the massive shadow approach. It had been years since she’d seen those greying scales and tattered wings, yet she had never forgotten them. While Sissel herself had grown and changed, Paarthurnax still looked the same.

The girl held her ground as he landed on the Word Wall in front of her. Her arms briefly shielded her eyes from the snow particles being lifted by the little breezes caused by his arrival. When she allowed herself to uncover them, she swore she could see the corners of his mouth upturned in an uncontained smile. Sissel herself could definitely feel her own smile.

However, she recalled a little word of advice from the Dragonborn. In spite of her excitement, she held her tongue. It was customary between dragons that the eldest speak first. And while Sissel did not qualify as Dragonborn, she’d still show Paarthurnax that respect.

**“Drem Yol Lok. Greetings.”** His booming, gentle voice hadn’t changed since the first time she spoke to him. **“So, you have made your way here, to me. No easy task for a joor. What is it you seek?”**

“I think you already know who I am.” Sissel responded. She had been warned by the Dragonborn that Paarthurnax might draw things out for the sake of more conversation - a temptation she had no issue in encouraging.

**“Yes. Vahzah. You speak true, Mulfeim.”**

_At least, I thought he knew me…_ Sissel thought as the name sank in. It sounded like a Dragon Priest name.

**“Krosis. I see your confusion,”** Paarthurnax continued when Sissel did not reply. **“I referred to you by that name for so long, I forgot it was my own creation.”**

Sissel offered a sympathetic smile. “Mul means ‘strong’, doesn’t it? And feim is, of course, ‘fade’.”

He nodded. **“The full name I assigned - ‘Mulfeimjoor’ - was one I gave you when I realized I did not know your true one. The Dovahkiin offered to tell me, but...Zu’u laan wah hon nol hi. Ni rok.”**

“I understand. My real name is Sissel.” She paused. “But I like the one you came up with. You’re free to still call me Mulfeim or Mulfeimjoor if you want.”

**“Sissel…”** Him testing the name for himself sent shivers down her spine.

Almost every night since their first meeting, Sissel slipped into sleep hoping that unique phenomena would happen again. Her attempts to force appearing before him again always failed. None of that kept her from having actual, proper dreams of seeing him again. It was a figment of her imagination - with talks and actions that might’ve not been accurate - but it was the next best thing for her.

The Paarthurnax in her dreams always knew her name, and sometimes would speak it, yet it didn’t compare to the real deal. Because now it was all official: she climbed the Throat of the World, met him face-to-face, and he truly cared to learn and memorize her name. After all these years, she was still starved for that level of attention and care, despite all she had gained. Guilt sparked in the back of her mind for projecting that hunger onto an ancient dragon with better things to focus on. 

A phantom Lemkil housed in that portion of her subconscious spat out, _“Clingy little brat.”_

**“You no longer require translations.”** Paarthurnax’s sudden comment overpowered her distractions.

“Yeah,” Sissel silently thanked that her language skills were the only thing he seemed to notice. “The Greybeards have been teaching me. I can even use some Words of Power; with enough energy, that is.”

 **“Your talent already exceeds my expectations.”** He momentarily glanced at the Word Wall. **“Would you humor a request for a demonstration?”**

“Oh, sure. But you’ve already seen me use Feim…”

**“Geh. Although my idea also serves as a gift - ofan.”**

With a few carefully placed steps, Paarthurnax removed himself from the Word Wall. The wing closest to Sissel stretched far enough to shield her from its view. It took only a second for Sissel to see why - a stream of fire from his maw struck the Word Wall. A recognizable word could be made out from the roar and crackling.

**“Yol.”**

When his wing pulled back to allow her to see, Sissel found the Word of Power now glowing on the wall. It was exactly as the Dragonborn had described during his stories. She tilted her head upwards towards Paarthurnax’s.

“How did you know I hadn’t started on Fire Breath?”

A half smirk formed. **“There were few news I allowed the Dovahkiin to share himself. To be your teacher...nii los dii zin.”** _“It is my honor.” _

His head nudged in the direction of the Word Wall. Sissel, following his direction, approached it. She felt the same tingling sensation in her soul that she felt when the Greybeards would teach her Words of Power. Unfortunately, unlike the Dragonborn, she didn’t have the gift of instant mastery over them. It would take months, maybe even years, of determined meditation to gain understanding of the Word and how to wield it. And while she wouldn’t mind doing just that up here in order to show her mentor she could, there were other places she had to travel to in the near future.

Impatience, however, was not present in only her. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and found it was from Paarthurnax’s wing.

 **“In your tongue, the word simply means ‘fire.’”** He explained, beginning a similar mediation to the Feim mediation. **“It is change given form, power at its most primal. That is the true meaning of Yol - suleyk, power. But power is inert without action and choice. Think of this as the fire builds in your su'um, in your breath. Su'um ahrk morah. What will you burn? What will you spare?”**

The image of her father and Britte flashed in her head. Sissel froze. Would she really have wanted to, if they were here right in front of her?

_“They found you on the floor...your sister’s corpse right next to you.”_

Sissel spent so much time focusing on her studies - no, _distracting_ herself - that she effectively caught off processing that event for years. After all that time, no one had ever cracked that mystery. Lemkil, _the asshole_ , decided to take it to his grave. One final power play…

 **“You are troubled.”** Her attention returned to Paarthurnax. **“Fun zu’u.”**

“I’m sorry. You didn’t mean to remind me…” she trailed off, causing a brief period of silence.

His head tilted thoughtfully. **“Does this concern the night we first met? Vobalaan bormah ahrk briinah?”**

“Did he ever explain what happened that night?”

Paarthurnax shook his head. **“As I have said, I refused his offers. I waited to hear it from you personally.”**

Taking another few moments to collect herself, Sissel began with a deep sigh.

“I woke up in the Dragonborn’s cart a few days after that night. Both of them are dead…” Her shoulders fell. “Britte was found next to my body, and they executed my father while we were on the road. I don’t mind that, though. I don’t think I would’ve gone even if I had the opportunity…”

 **“Zu’u mindoraan. He was your bormah…”** He added onto that with a mumble, **“Maar bormah, nuz bormah, nonetheless…”**

“I used to wonder if there was anything I could do that’d just make him happy with me.” She paused, blinking a few tears away. “Now I really just don’t care. I’m more curious of how things would’ve gone if Britte survived that night, too. I...I was never able to piece that together. He had no idea the chores he was angry about were hers in the first place. He was only angry with me. Sure, _maybe_ he finally snapped. _Maybe_ he didn’t want any witnesses. But he should’ve known she hated me, too. She’d be glad I was gone…”

After a moment of silence signaling Sissel was done speaking, Paarthurnax let out a thoughtful hum.

 **“Dreh hi vahzah shavot daar?”** he inquired. **“Has there been nothing to prove otherwise?”**

 _They were right. He really_ is _good at reading people._

She sighed. “I...I know deep down she was hurt, too. It wasn’t like I was the _only_ target in the house. And he was her father, too…

“I’ve had this thought since I convinced Jouane to tell me more about what he saw that morning. When they found us…” She shifted her feet, now aching from standing in the cold so long. “He said her face was wet, as well as the floor around it. Eyes wide open and red. Her right arm was outstretched, with her hand resting on me. Examination showed it was a quick blow to the head, leading to her bleeding out; not even a sign of struggle. The cause of death...people told me at first she died instantaneously, without even realizing it happened. Jouane and Rorik think otherwise. She could’ve been laying there for minutes, even hours, before actually succumbing.

“She could’ve been awake the whole time. She could’ve just been passed out. They couldn’t really tell, for obvious reasons.”

It was at that point Sissel finally felt her legs had enough. With several droplets crawling down her face, she lowered herself to the ground and sat there. The snow beneath her clothes sent chills up her body; chills left unnoticed, as other things were already causing her to shiver.

With a tiny, hoarse voice, she concluded, “Did she really just let herself die there? How far into the night was it that I healed myself with Feim? Was she already dead by then? Did she die thinking I was already gone?”

For some time, all Sissel could hear following that was the harsh winds of the Throat of the World. Shrill shrieking that echoed her mind’s voice. The same she’d make sometimes after waking during the night back at High Hrothgar. After nightmares repeated that night’s events in her sleep. After nightmares distorted that reality into scenes new and gruesome. After nightmares recreated what she could only imagine.

She assured Jouane the truth wouldn’t bother her. She deserved to know, as she explained. And by then it had been so many years that surely she’d be numb to it now. Even so, sometime after Jouane recounted the scene to her, she would sometimes have a recurring nightmare. She was on the floor of the home, right where her father had struck her down, but she couldn’t move at all. Not even her eyes. She was forced to look ahead for what felt like hours - maybe even the whole night. Britte was there, in her spot, just staring back at her. Slowly dying. On rare occasions, she’d have a version of the dream where Britte could speak, except it was all the horrible stuff she’d said to Sissel over their lives.

Not long after she started to trail off into those memories, Sissel stopped feeling the cold breeze on her skin. Warmth surrounded her. Taking a second to look up and around, she found herself surrounded by weathered, gray wings. _His_ wings. His head was angled down, looking softly and sadly at her. Paarthurnax must’ve been able to tell something like that was haunting her.

**“Do you know what I first thought when you mentioned her name?”**

Sissel shook her head.

**“I wondered if the joor tinvaak had evolved again. Britte...briinah...it sounds similar, does it not?”**

Nodding, Sissel added, “And mine...it sounds like ‘sister’.”

He huffed in amusement, the hot air smacking into her form. **“Briinah, sister. Who was it that gave you those names?”**

She had to seriously think about it for a moment. “I’m...not exactly sure. I never thought about it before. Mama died when we were born. But I’ve heard of parents thinking of names early. I don’t even know if father would’ve cared at that point to name us himself.”

**“Hmm...a coincidence, then. A fitting one at that.”**

Sissel silently agreed. The strange diversion helped lift her spirits a bit. With the topic in mind, she decided to bring up her own past thoughts.

“The Greybeards and Dragonborn mentioned something to me.” Sissel said. “They said...that Alduin was your brother?”

With a tilt of his head, he answered, **“Vahzah. Zeymah. He was my brother once. Du’ul Bormahu...his pahlok, however, changed things.”**

He muttered lowly in solely draconic, not bothering to translate. **“Alduin wahlaan daanii. Zu'u tiiraaz ahst ok mah.”**

“I’m sorry...he might’ve been the World Eater, but it must’ve still been tough to have to help kill him...I don’t know if I could have ever done the same to Britte, no matter how she used to be…”

 **“It was needed in order to vokrii ro - restore balance. What good is a World Eater if he will not eat the world? Ni du lein...”** He cracked a smile at that, which Sissel copied. He soon grew serious again. **“Zu’u haalvut so; I regret having to do so, but not having done it.”**

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you did. We never would’ve met if Alduin won.”

He nodded his head. **“Vahzah. Indeed. Which reminds me…”**

With snow being thrown into the air with each thud, Paarthurnax stepped around Sissel. He repositioned his body so that it was in a semi-circle around her, before allowing himself to descend. After a few more shifts, he finally looked comfortable in his new spot. Sissel felt like a doll being guarded by a large dog - a winged dog, that is.

**“It has grown late, and I refuse to allow you to make the journey back down at this time of night. Praan ahrk vokrii suleyk.”**

Looking towards the sky, Sissel widened her eyes at how it had changed since she first arrived. No longer was there a sunset - now the two moons had fully risen for all to see, surrounded by the sea of stars. Against the black backdrop were beautiful strokes of blue and green mixing together in vibrant displays. Had they really been talking for so long? She honestly felt like she could go on forever, and silently hoped that could be reality.

And yet, now aware of the time, exhaustion rapidly took hold of her. She yawned, and found herself falling back onto the dragon that shielded her from the nightly cold. She didn’t even bother setting up a proper camp.

A low rumbling lulled Sissel into sleep; and for one night, she didn’t worry about what might await her in the land of dreams.

* * *

Despite the circumstances, the previous night was also one of the most sound slumbers Sissel had in a long time. Perhaps it was due to the warmth of dragons being only matched by the surface of the sun. Perhaps it was due to Paarthurnax causing her to talk so much she wore herself out. Or perhaps it was due to the relief and peace the conversation had brought her - finally resolving tensions she had been holding onto for years.

Either way, the morning was less eventful than the night. Sissel used her new ability of Yol to warm up some of her packed away food. Cheekily, she offered some of the bits to Paarthurnax, who simply laughed it off and assured he could still hunt in his old age.

The breakfast time was used to further catch up, since their conversation before ended up being mostly dedicated to emotional matters. They discussed the Dragonborn, the Greybeards, and even current affairs within Skyrim.

**“So, what will you do once you are of age to leave the nest?”** Paarthurnax asked at one point.

“Well, Jouane and the Dragonborn recommended the College of Winterhold to further improve my magic.” Sissel explained. “And I agree. It’d help me get stronger, and meet some new people. The Dragonborn’s already been singing its praises, based on the time he spent there. He said I’d get along great with the Arch-Mage. Although, I don’t know why he found it so funny…”

He could only offer an amused hum at that. Apparently, he might’ve had an idea on the answer, but decided to keep it to himself.

_Guess I’ll have to wait until I get there to find out…_

**“You mention growing hin suleyk.”** he continued. **“For what purpose?”**

Sissel gave it a thought for a few moments, only to come up with a shrug and: “It just seems natural. I have an ability, and potential. Nurturing it could benefit myself and others.”

**“Pruzah. Good. A Dovah would think differently,”** He huffed. **“Perhaps you should help tutor my students. Nust los motmahus - they struggle to grasp such concepts.”**

“You’re already a great speaker, and a wise one. If anyone can teach a dragon - or _anyone_ \- the Way of the Voice, it’d be you.”

**“The Way of the Voice…”** he murmured. **“Will you continue to study it, once you’re free from High Hrothgar?”**

“Free?” Sissel laughed. “I’ve loved it there. And the Greybeards. Of course I’ll continue my studies seperate from my College studies.”

She pursed her lips for a moment, then added, “Except, maybe later on down the line...I still want to experience the different corners of Skyrim before I’ll have to dedicate myself to isolation.”

 **“Vahzah. Of course.”** Paarthurnax looked to the sky. **“Even I wish to not be so bound. Bo ulse ko Kaan ven...but those days have long passed. Tiid bo amativ.”**

“Plus, the Blades would be after you, alongside any warrior wanting to prove themselves…”

A surge of inner hurt washed over her. She had been told many times, especially by the Dragonborn, of the Blades’ grudge against Paarthurnax. The Dragonborn had tried to talk the leader out of the ultimatum she thrust on him during his quest against Alduin, but she would not be stirred. They wanted Paarthurnax dead. They’d even betray their ancient oath to serve the Dragonborn for that wish. If Sissel ever crossed paths with them…

She mentally sighed. _I’d like to say I’d give them a piece of my mind, but I don’t think he’d appreciate that. Even he understands why they hate him, even if I can’t._

 **“And they would be right to do so.”** Paarthurnax said, further supporting her thoughts.

“Well, I don’t care about a dragon’s nature, or the things you did in the past. You’ve been good to me, and the Dragonborn, and the Greybeards, and a lot of people since then. You’re a _good dragon_.”

**“There are those who’d argue there’s no such thing.”**

With another internal sigh, Sissel resolved to help him see otherwise in the future. For now, she’d just have to point out his kindness whenever she could. Still, as she was in the process of packing her supplies away, she caught in the corner of her eye the sight of his face furrowing.

It caused her to tilt her head. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. **“Nid. Krosis. You simply always give me something to morah - to think on.”**

She smiled. “And you do, too.”

**“There was something I’ve learned I wished to share. Something we both can morah. Mu ney morah.”**

“What is it?”

Paarthurnax stretched and straightened himself. **“Kiin brod, heim brod - it is our choice on what un vahzah brod is - our true family. Alduin was zeymahi according to Akatosh. The Greybeards are brod according to me. Zu’u nis koraav...it was you who taught me this time.”**

She stopped to let her body slacken, registering those words.

 **“You seem surprised.”** he noted with a small smile.

“Yeah…” she admitted. “You’re the Grandmaster, and an ancient one at that-”

He briefly interrupted with a booming laugh at that. Sissel gave a quieter giggle, then continued.

“You’re the one who teaches people. You’ve already given me so much advice before. I didn’t even _mean_ to teach you anything…”

He considered her with a hum. **“Vahzah. It is often expected of the old - fin wuth - to be the wise - fin onik. Nuz, the wisest know well the perspectives gained from goraan, from youth.”**

“So…” Sissel began, looking up to him with hopeful eyes. “If the Greybeards are your family - and they raised me, so I consider them family, too - does that also mean…?”

With a rumble, Paarthurnax nodded. **“My strunmah is open to you whenever needed - no matter the path you take, or the motives you have. Zu’u fen kos saraan - I will be waiting. Hi los brod, Mulfeim. Hi los brod** ** _i_** **.”**

Blinking back tears and dropping her pack, Sissel rushed to latch onto one of his forelimbs. At first, she heard a chuckle from above. It was quickly followed by nuzzling on her back. She turned to hug the snout that now was at her level.

“And you’re mine, too…”

* * *

The journey back to High Hrothgar ended up delayed until past noon. Fortunately - and perhaps funnily enough - the trip downwards seemed faster than going upwards. By sunset, Sissel had gone from the cozy blanket of dragon wings to the eager arms of her robed guardians. Discussions of the journey and what occurred at the destination filled the night, even spilling into the next few days.

By the time Sissel was going down the Seven Thousand Steps for the first time since the Dragonborn guided her up them, a new mantra brought both herself and the Greybeards comfort in the new College era of her life. It was one they shared with the Dragonborn. It was one she hoped to share with new people to trust. It was one she privately assigned to Britte.

Mu los vahzah brod. _We are a true family. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. After months of struggling with finding words, and being interrupted by life, and finding motivation to write literally any other work besides this for a time, the final chapter is complete! I was getting kinda worried it'd be the shortest one of the bunch, but for the past few days I've just been churning hundreds of words per day.
> 
> Thus concludes Sissel's found family story. I still have to do the companion piece with angsty Britte, and some parts of this chapter already foreshadows what that might entail. But I honestly couldn't tell you when I'll get that completed - just that I fully intend to keep it to a oneshot this time. I've also briefly pondered on the misadventures of Sissel in college, or after graduation when she's in an adventuring party. But if I ever decide to continue this AU, it will probably be after a long time, as I've already got dozens of WIP series already on my plate and I'm *really* trying to avoid new ideas for a while (and of course failing).
> 
> Also! It's now in my bio, but I still wanna add it in my end notes regularly from now on: [I've got a carrd for fic news and updates](https://nekoprank218fanfic.carrd.co/)! You can refer to it for fic statuses, some personal context, new updates/completions, and that "since last update" timer I feel the biggest surge of pride for for some reason?


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